


It's the Fall That Kills You

by coldfiredragon



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Attempt(s), Blood Magic, Blood and Gore, Broken!Eliot, Character Death, Drinking, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Heavy Angst, Language, Not!Eliot's!, Other, Partial Mind Control, Protective!Margo, Spoilers for s02e05, The Fallout might break their friendship, modern propaganda in a medieval society
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 01:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9943274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldfiredragon/pseuds/coldfiredragon
Summary: Word travels fast about the high king.  Emotional.  Easily wounded.Eliot overhears part of the conversation between Bayler and Fen, and not the part where she comes to his defense.  Broken by the perceived betrayal he turns to the only person he trusts... Margo.





	1. Words Whispered In Secret

**Author's Note:**

> So this story is going to be 2 parts. The set-up will be chapter one and the execution will be chapter two. 
> 
> This is gonna be pretty dark before it's done, so just a head's up. Also, I can't stress this enough.
> 
>  
> 
> SPOILERS!!!!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> For Episode s02e05. 'Cheat Day'. If you haven't watched it yet I wouldn't read any farther. The fic will be canon divergence from the end of the episode 
> 
>  
> 
> I love comments, and kudos. If you see mistakes please point them out! I usually hand write my pieces first to work out the kinks but this got typed because it flowed so quickly. Chapter 2 should show up in a couple of days. Happy reading!

Before stepping out of his room, Eliot waved his hands through the motions of a short series of spells. One to silence his footfalls, another to make his guards turn a blind eye when he got close enough, and a third to enhance his hearing. He wanted to sneak, not be the center of attention. Solitude was a nearly impossible thing to come by now that he was high king. Someone was always waiting just out of sight. A guard, an adviser, Margo, his wife... now he could even add assassins to that list. All of it made Eliot want to scream. 

Logic and Margo told him he should have executed Bayler as they had planned. The whole ordeal could have been over this morning, but he'd dragged it out and had ever intention of continuing to drag it out. The last thing Fillory needed was a martyr, and he wanted to be better than that. He wanted to be better than Martin Chatwin had been, because Fillory deserved it, and so did the baby. 

That he was going to be a father was a near impossible thing to wrap his mind around. It terrified him, but like it or not, hell or high water, he was king, and Fillory was his forever home. He had to make the best of it. Once the spells were in place, he crept out of his room. The palace seemed silent so late; even Fen had disappeared. That was odd. The worry for her wormed its way into his mind. He still didn't love her, and he hated the idea of what she was to him. He had never wanted a wife or children, but soon he'd have both and having them meant protecting them. 

On silent feet, he crept through the castle, towards the lower levels, and the prison cells – toward Bayler. Eliot hadn't confided his plan to Margo yet. It really wasn't even a plan. It was an idea. Maybe if he found out how the FU Fighters wanted to make Fillory better, he could adopt some of their solutions. He could curtail this rebellion before a full on civil war erupted. It was a longshot, but he was desperate, and desperate Kings did stupid things. 

The castle sub-levels were dark and quiet, and piles of discarded everything had collected at every corner. Stacks of crates cast long shadows and sharp turns meant secluded hiding spots. Eliot eagerly used them to his advantage, until he stopped dead. The swish of fabric against stone was loud in his ears. The soft greeting of 'Lady Fen' from one of the guards was louder. The sound of keys rattling against a lock was deafening. Eliot's pulse spiked as he eased around a few more corners and finally into the empty cell beside Bayler's. 

The spell that had enhanced his hearing made their voices loud enough to hear. They could have been in the same room under normal circumstances. 

“Gods, it's good to see you,” Bayler told Fen. Eliot felt something inside of him break. Blood rushed in his ears, and even with the spell, even though he should be listening to every word, he heard nothing but the voice screaming in his head that he had been played. He felt absolutely frozen with shock.

“You always knew that one day I'd have to--”

“Marry him, yes, and then you would be here, on the inside.” Eliot didn't need to hear anything else; he couldn't, so he waved his fingers until his enhanced hearing went back to normal. The pieces of an ugly puzzle had snapped into place after months of trial and error. The whole arranged marriage had been a trap from the beginning. Ember had set things so only people from Earth could hold the thrones of Fillory and the Fillorians had found a way around the trap. Now that Fen was pregnant the child could take the throne when it came of age. She had never cared about him; she had used him. Now that they had what they needed the Fillorians would kill him, and Margo, Quentin too, if he ever returned. 

His hand formed a fist at his side, and anger warred with heartbreak. He had been terrified when Fen told him about their baby, but a small desperate part of him had been hopeful too. His father had been a worthless, abusive, drunk. Eliot had been determined to be nothing like him. Yeah, he knew jack shit about fatherhood, but he could have figured it out. Eliot shook his head in an attempt to find some clarity. He needed to warn Margo. That was the first thing -- get to Bambi, and beg on his knees for her to forgive his stupidity. They could execute Bayler in the morning if would make her happy, but Fen's betrayal would require a more delicate hand than he was currently capable of wielding. He couldn't execute his wife, especially not two days after he had foolishly announced to a throne room full of advisers that she was pregnant. 

He didn't remember getting back upstairs or using a spell to force the lock on the door to Margo's bedchamber, or batting away the blast of battle that flew in his direction with a well-timed shield spell. 

“What the fuck Eliot!” Margo's furious shout cut through the mad swirl of memories and emotions. Behind him, the door slammed shut, and a glass water pitcher exploded on a nearby table. Eliot didn't realize his legs had buckled until his knees slammed into the stone floor. “El? Oh god, baby.” Margo threw herself out of bed, and Eliot listened to the slap of her bare feet against the stone as she crossed the room to him. 

The tears didn't start flowing down his face until she hugged him, and her smell was all he could smell. Flowery perfume, ink, old books, and booze. Eliot wished he'd had the foresight to pocket his flask before he'd gone to the dungeons. He needed it now. “El, tell me what's wrong. Tell me what happened.” She pressed him tight to her, and he could hear the whisper of spells as her hands moved behind his back. The lock repaired itself and wards to keep their conversation private sprang into place.

“Fen...” His wife's name was all he could force past his lips before his throat closed and he shuddered in Margo's hold. 

“What happened to Fen?” Margo's hand cupped his face while the other ran soothingly through his hair. Eliot swallowed and tried to force his emotions back into their box. He needed his head to be clear so they could form some plan, he'd take any idea, no matter how wild or insane. 

“It was all a trap, Bambi. They had a plan for whoever sliced their hand open on the Leo blade. It wouldn't have mattered if it was me or Quentin, or Josh, or fucking Penny.” Bitter resentment clouded his tone. They had all been so blind, and so desperate to survive. They had jumped at the chance when it had been presented. He had fully expected that it would be futile no matter what had happened. Never in his wildest dreams had he pictured himself where he was now. “Fen's one of the FU-Fighters. She's been one since before we met. They.... they needed to get someone inside the castle.” 

“And what better way to do that than to force through an arranged marriage.” Margo finished. Her tone was shocked, but even, and Eliot took comfort in it. At least one of them was going to keep a clear head. Gods knew he couldn't. He had been falling to pieces since Mike. 

“I don't know what to do.” He whispered softly. Eliot sank back onto his heels, folding his long legs under himself completely. His gaze fixed on the foot of Margo's bed and he stared blankly into space. At least he knew who his enemies were now. If they had killed Bayler that morning as planned, he never would have found out about Fen. She would have stayed beside him, just waiting for the right moment. He would never have seen it coming. 

“How did you find out?” Margo asked. She got up, and a moment later a goblet hovered in front of Eliot's face. He could smell the wine, and his stomach clenched. She had been bringing back a few bottles every time she went back to Brakebills, and between the two of them, they never lasted long. Right now he needed something stronger, but he took the glass and held it. 

“I fuck...” He brought the goblet to his lips and drank, forcing himself to stop before it was empty. Moderation was something else he was being required to learn on top of the billion things a monarch was supposed to know. “I went to the dungeons.” He whispered softly.

“What the fuck for?” Margo demanded. 

“To interrogate our prisoner. Margo, for fuck's sake. I have to fix this place. Not you, me. You can go home. You should go home.” The wine glass blurred and he looked up at her. He forced himself to meet her eyes for the first time since he had barged into her room. “ _Please_.” He implored softly. “Get out of here before someone hurts you. Get out, and when you do, make sure Q never comes back.” It had been a long time since he had begged her for anything. He needed her to do this, though, he needed to know the last two people he possibly loved stayed safe. 

“I am not abandoning you here.” Margo's voice was steel and fire, and Eliot loved her for it, even as he hated her stubbornness. “Continue.” She ordered. “You went to the dungeons and...”

“Fen was already down there, and the guards let her into his cell like it was nothing. They didn't even sound surprised to see her. I used magic to listen to what they said to each other.” In hindsight, he regretted not listening to the entire conversation. What if they had plotted something and he'd missed the chance to get a step ahead for a change. 

“It's not too late to have Bayler executed,” Margo told him. A silent 'you should have listened to me' hung unspoken in her tone. 

“But that won't solve the problem with Fen, or the guards, who knows how many of them are secretly aligned against us.” Eliot finished off the wine and was grateful when Margo refilled it. Her hand brushed through his hair, then curved around his chin so she could tilt his face up. 

“What do you want to do about Fen?” Eliot wished he'd never married her. He wished he could go home and leave her in Fillory. She could raise the baby to be the King or Queen all of Fillory wanted. Now that he knew how she really felt about him, that her affection was forced, he never wanted to look at her again. 

“We can't execute her Margo! Everyone knows she's pregnant. I can't give these people new reasons to hate me.” 

“What if we didn't kill her?” Margo's voice was soft and dangerous. She was trying to be as gentle as she could in an attempt to hold his fragile emotional state in check. She knew every time he broke apart the pieces got smaller. He could see that she had an idea, though, and that it wasn't pretty, and that she knew he wouldn't like it. He also knew she would do just about anything to protect him, and he needed that right now.

“Don't tell me.” He whispered softly. “I trust you, but I can't know what you are going to do.”


	2. Words Shouted From the Rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margo sets her plan in motion, but magic has an unexpected impact on the outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance, this chapter ran long, far longer than I would have liked to post, but there wasn't a good point to break it. It's gonna be dark. Prepare yourself.

Margo set Eliot's crown on its little pillow near his bed and reached to rake her hand through the soft, loose curls of his hair. Getting the man off the floor of her room, and into bed in his room hadn't taken too long, but she felt imminently aware of every passing second. What she planned to do had to happen tonight. She was both alternatively relieved and terrified that he didn't know what was coming. For better or worse his reactions would be genuine. 

She watched him curl in on himself under the covers and blinked away her tears. She hated seeing him like this. Eliot hid a heart of gold under a million layers of sass and swagger. That he was breaking under the pressures of being High King was evident to anyone who knew him. Being forever stuck here with no chance to go home was just icing on the cake. Maybe if Alice hadn't died, and Quentin hadn't been injured he would be more stable. Four magicians could have easily handled the rising tides. The worst part of all of this was the timing. Eliot had just been starting to find his feet, and Fen had pulled the rug from under him. 

Fen being a FU-Fighter didn't surprise Margo. The girl hadn't seemed jubilant about the arranged marriage when her father had ordered it. Though lately, Margo had suspected she was turning a corner. She had seemed to adore Eliot, and the news of the baby had certainly come as a surprise. Margo hadn't even realized that Eliot had managed to copulate with her. Maybe it had happened on the wedding night, though the timing didn't match. She had no idea, and Eliot was understandably tight-lipped when it came to personal relations with his wife. 

“Get some rest.” She told Eliot as she stroked her hand through his hair again.

“Be safe.” He murmured back as she stood. 

“Always.” She spelled the oil lamps, so they cast the room in near darkness and crossed his bedroom. She had just finished closing the chamber doors behind her when the doors to the living area of the suite opened, and Fen stepped in. “Where the hell have you been?” Margo crossed her arms over her chest and jutted out her chin. Anger simmered in her eyes. Fen returned the glare. 

“None of your business, please move. I'd like to retire for the evening.” 

“Sister, everything in this castle is my goddamn business. I'm high fucking queen.” Margo stormed towards her and grabbed her arm. “Come with me; we need to talk.” Fen tried to pull her arm free, and for a moment Margo thought she might scream for Eliot. That was not going to happen. The fingers of the hand not wrapped around Fen's arm shifted through a spell, and Fen's hand raised to her throat as she was silenced. Margo pulled her closer. “We need to talk, about Eliot. The attempt on his life messed him up.” The resistance leaked from Fen's frame, and she nodded, what Margo would have mistaken for worry clouded her eyes. The Fillorians had chosen their actress surprisingly well. She waved at her throat and Margo released the spell. 

“What's wrong? What can I do?” 

“Let's go to my room and talk.” Fen nodded and turned to follow Margo through the suite. Together they walked in silence through the halls to Margo's rooms. Locks clicked closed as Margo delicately waved her hands. 

“Margo, please. Tell me what's wrong.” Margo led Fen into her bedroom and pointed to the bed. 

“Sit.” She murmured. When Fen was sitting, with her hands folded in her lap Margo started to pace. Once her back to the other woman, she closed her eyes. She steadied herself and pictured Eliot in her mind. She thought about the moment his knees had impacted the floor of her room, and the tears in his eyes when he'd begged her to go home. Her hands snapped through a spell as she turned back to Fen, and the women collapsed backward onto the bed. Margo knew the misery she had managed to channel into that spell would keep Fen asleep for hours, long enough to do what needed to be done. 

More spells flowed from her hands, and she forced her voice not to shake. Fen's dress shifted into a nightgown Margo had worn to sleep in more than once since she had arrived in Fillory. When she'd finished, she turned her ornate outfit into a copy of the one Fen had been wearing. Once the clothes were appropriate, she started working on the glamours. She did her own first, so she could look at Fen's face to make sure it was perfect. Bayler had known Fen for years; he would potentially recognize even the smallest detail if it was out of place. Once she was satisfied, she set about making Fen look like her. In the darkness of the bedroom, it didn't need to be as perfect, but her plot had to succeed, so it had to be convincing. 

Margo rubbed her temples before performing a final spell. She chanted in Danish with two fingers near her lips and then pressed the digits to Fen's throat. They came away glowing with a faint ball of wispy white light. Stealing the woman's voice was a move straight out of Ursula's playbook, and Margo's stomach churned. She hated the idea that she might be sinking to that level. She pressed the light to her throat anyway and swallowed against the thick dryness of her mouth as the spell settled in. When she spoke again Fen's vocal tones masked her own. 

When everything was in place, she shifted Fen under the covers and slipped a knife out from under the farthest pillow. The attempt on Eliot's life had made her paranoid for her safety, but the thing would serve a new purpose now. She hid it away in her clothes and left her suite. She headed for the dungeons on swift feet, avoiding the guards when she could and politely nodding when she couldn't. The guards on Bayler's cell seemed surprised to see her. 

“Lady Fen, you shouldn't have come a second time in one evening.” Margo bristled silently; these two were obviously FU-Fighters biding their time. She would have to deal with them. “The situation has changed. The High Queen has convinced my husband that Bayler should be executed after all, he must make his escape tonight.” The guards looked alarmed and angered, and one moved to open the cell. “Close the doors until I knock.” She ordered. They nodded, and she stepped inside. Bayler was lying on the narrow cot as she stepped inside the moonlit cell. 

“Fen?” He groggily asked as he came awake. 

“Don't say a word,” Margo ordered immediately. “Margo has convinced Eliot to kill you. I overheard them when I returned to my room. Your escape must happen now.” Her words seemed to light a fire within him; he was suddenly more awake, and eager to run. “Eliot believes my loyalty, I think I can keep him in the dark, but Margo is another story. You have to kill her before you escape. It will devastate my husband, and make our cause much easier in the long run.” 

“Oh, it's our cause now? Is it? You seemed so eager to deny it earlier when you told me of your pregnancy. You threatened to kill me if I moved against him again.” Margo felt her stomach lurch, but she didn't let her tumultuous emotions reach her face. Saying the right words to convince Bayler she was Fen had already been hard enough, now she had to deal with the idea that she was leading a pregnant woman to her death when all she had ever done wrong was have a life before Eliot had been forced into it. Margo decided she would never tell him, their friendship wouldn't survive this. She would be hurting him worse than Fen ever had. 

“I care about Fillory, Bayler! And my baby! I won't let you hurt Eliot again, but Margo doesn't trust me, and if she can sway my husband so easily then I am not safe with her alive.” Sympathy for her finally crossed the man's face. 

“What would you have me do?” He asked finally. 

“Kill the guards.” Margo produced the knife. 

“But they are loyal FU-Fighters.” Bayler protested. 

“If you kill the High Queen they will be as good as dead for letting you escape. Their fates are sealed. No one must be left alive to tell Eliot that I helped in your escape.” He nodded, and Margo passed him the blade, then pounded on the door and yelled to be let out. Bayler was efficient if nothing else, which Margo had already suspected considering how quickly he had gotten into the castle and so close to Eliot, in the first place. The guards were dead in a moment, and Margo slipped out of the cell before their blood had spread far enough to stain her dress. “Come on.” She whispered urgently. They hurried through the castle, stopping only to avoid guards until finally, they reached her rooms. She eased the door open and waved Bayler in before creeping on silent feet to the bedchamber. A peak inside revealed Fen where she had left her. 

“Are you certain this is the right course of action?” Bayler asked in the empty silence. 

“Cut her throat so she can't cast,” Margo told him. “Make sure you cut deep enough so she'll bleed out before help can arrive.” The words felt surreal as they left her mouth. She was telling an assassin how to kill someone, not just someone, a magician. Bayler nodded and disappeared into the darkened room. As soon as the door closed Margo started unworking her glamor, another spell reworked her outfit so it wasn't the loose dress Fen would have worn. She released the spell holding Fen's voice over her own and watched it hover against her fingertips. It hung there for a moment, then broke apart when it no longer had a host to to return to. 

Soul crushing guilt crowded in on Margo's mind, and she suddenly understood why Eliot had fallen so hard in the wake of Mike's death, and how he must have felt when he'd been fourteen and Logan Kinnear had died. He had told her all his secrets in a desperate attempt to hang onto the only place that had ever felt like home to him, but she hadn't understood the guilt that had accompanied his memories until now. Her eyes burned, and she blinked them dry, then wiped away the trails before they could run down her cheeks. 

“What in the name of the Gods have you done!” Bayler's surprised shout pulled Margo back to the present, and she barely had enough time to side-step the first strike. Her hands waved, and she plucked at her wards. In the distance, she heard shouts as her guards were alerted. A second wild swipe narrowly missed her belly. “You soulless witch! I told you of her loyalty, and you still did this!” 

“We knew she was a FU-Fighter,” Margo informed him. “I wasn't going to let her sit at my best friend's side while all of you waited for the right moment to kill him.” Fierce protectiveness for Eliot pushed away some of the guilt. She would use Fen's death, and the baby's death, and Bayler's death, and the death of the two guards to protect him. Eliot would have no one if he didn't have her and she had promised not to abandon him. She would drag Quentin back by the hair if she had to and together the three of them would fix this godforsaken shit hole of a kingdom. Hopefully, the spell binding Eliot to one wife had broken with her death, maybe he and Quentin could finally figure it out and overcome Alice's and Fen's deaths by finding solace in each other. Considering Fillory, it was probably too much to hope for. 

The knife bit into her side as battle magic flowed from her fingers. Bayler's neck snapped as Margo's fingers went to the blade. New guilt bit at the edges of Margo's mind. She had promised Eliot she would be safe. She slipped the knife free and gasped, then grit her teeth and gathered her magic before chanting fast in Romany. The wound started to close, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the doors were thrown open and guards poured in. 

“The assassin, somehow he escaped the dungeons. Lady Fen... She had come to talk about the baby, and he attacked us both when he overheard.” Margo gestured towards her bedroom and limped towards the doors. They were open from Bayler's exit, but she pushed them wider as the oil lamps flared to life. The glamour had faded when Fen had died, but Margo still wished she hadn't looked. She felt light headed as her wound continued to bleed sluggishly. Margo sank to her knees and murmured the spell again. The injury closed more, but she felt disconnected and exhausted. It was the middle of the night, and she hadn't slept, and her dress clung wetly to her side. 

A commotion rose from the outer room as more guards flooded into the already crowded space, a few of their advisers were mixed here and there. Someone had woken Eliot, who looked pale and moved mechanically. The shadows under his eyes stood out in stark contrast, and he'd left his crown in his bedroom in his haste to get to hers. His lanky frame leaned heavily against the doorframe as he stopped in the bedroom door. Margo watched his eyes dart over the scene, and she could see panic growing in every line of his body. He started to move towards her and Margo used a skill she had told herself she would never use. She reached for the lessons Mayakovsky had taught them when he'd given them insects and rodents to practice on and pushed as gently as she could against Eliot's mind. His wards were gone, it was too easy, and she hated herself. 

'Go to Fen.' The command was so simple. He fought it for a second; then his eyes darted to the dead woman on the bed. Something broke in his expression, and he crossed the room. No one had dared touch her yet, but he eased her into his arms and sank to the floor as he cradled her in his lap. The sob as he hid his face against her hair made Margo cry as well, and there was a murmuring of sympathy and grief that rippled through the gathered guards and advisers. Their king was grieving for his Florian wife, he was grieving for one of them. There was magic in the mix of emotion, and Margo latched onto it. 

“Bayler killed her!” She told Eliot, loudly enough for everyone to hear, because it was true. She had weaved just enough truth into the lies, and now she could shape the narrative, and these people would believe whatever they heard from her mouth. Her injury added credibility to her story. Hopefully, they would spread it, and the whole kingdom would know in days. “He claimed to be a member of Fillorians United, he boasted about how they wouldn't rest until a Fillorian sat on the throne, but when he found out about Lady Fen's pregnancy....” Margo paused to ride the wave of magic. She could almost feel the strands braiding together into a powerful spell. There were gasps from the guards as they learned what the advisers already knew. “When he found out a Fillorian heir would one day hold the throne he killed her anyway.”

“If any of you have any doubts let me make it clear that the members of Fillorians United are enemies of the crown. My wife and unborn child didn't deserve such cruelty. They are enemies of all Fillory.” Eliot hadn't moved from where he'd ended up on the floor, but he must have sensed the spell weaving in the air around them because his words strengthened it. His gaze dropped back to the woman in his arms, and he shifted her with a gentle reverence. “For Fillory, for Lady Fen.” He added softly. The words sealed the spell and around them, guards and advisers alike started dropping to one knee. Margo noted the ones who were most reluctant to give into the spell's pull. Eliot's shocked gaze shifted over them in disbelief and Margo took over. 

“Spread the word, anyone who harbors a member of the Fillorian United movement will face punishment by the Crown. Anyone who comes forward with information on the traitors will be rewarded. We'll show them what loyalty to their nation truly looks like! For Fillory!” 

“For Fillory!” The group chorused.

“Go. Everyone out. I.. I would like to grieve in private.” Eliot breathed. The group stood and shuffled out; some had tears in their eyes. They would be the ones to shout the new decree the loudest. The doors to the outer suite swung closed as the last people stepped through them. 

“Eliot...”

“What the fuck?”

“El, please.” 

“You used mind control, on me, in some fucked up loyalty spell!”

“I wasn't trying to do a fucking spell! It just happened! You're their king, Eliot! There is magic in everything here. Please... I wasn't trying to hurt you!” She watched as Eliot yanked the blood-soaked bed covers off the mattress so he could wrap them around Fen's body. His shirt was slick against his chest, and he tugged it over his head with shaking fingers and tried to clean off his hands and arms, there was so much blood that all he managed to do was smear it. He tried again with frantic movements.

“Oh God.” The blood stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin, and Margo could hear the hitch in his breath as she levered herself against the wall in an attempt to stand. Nasty black spots danced in her vision from her own blood loss, and she heard a panicked shout of 'Margo' before she pitched forward. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

When she woke up again it was morning, or mid-day, or maybe even the next day. Ceiling high windows let sunlight stream into the room, and the linens surrounding her were a soft crisp white. Her side and waist were held stiff by layers of wrapped bandages. 

“Jesus, finally. Don't sit up.” Eliot ordered as she stirred. “Benedict, leave us please.” The pudgy map maker bowed and disappeared before Eliot got up to sit on the edge of her bed. Margo couldn't help but notice that the Benedict had donned all black and that Eliot had as well. The plain shirt, pants, and boots were probably the least ornate things she had seen him wear since he'd arrived in Fillory. Eliot brought a straw to her lips, and Margo gratefully sipped at the chilled water. 

“You fucking idiot.” He whispered fiercely. “You were supposed to be safe!”

“Benedict, what, why, how long was I....” Margo groaned and pressed a hand to her side. The injury ached, her whole body ached. “Painkillers.” She demanded. Eliot seemed to have expected that, because he produced the baggie of colored pills she had brought back on her last trip to Brakebills. He picked out a plain white Vicodin and brought the water back so she could swallow it. 

“We don't have very many, so don't get hooked.” She nodded. “You were out almost a full day; Benedict was here because he's the closest thing we have to a city planner, and he had suggestions for Fen's memorial.” 

“What are you going to do?” Margo asked. She squirmed against the pillows, trying to get them bunched below her, so she wasn't lying flat. Eliot didn't seem interested in helping. 

“A public memorial garden, perhaps with new market stalls, maybe not. I haven't decided. Most of the castle has chosen to take my lead and wear black.” A smirk almost formed on his lips but dissolved just as quickly. There was something detached about the way he was presiding over the situation. Margo reached for his hand, but Eliot pulled it out of her grasp. “I haven't forgiven you yet.” He whispered, and the first hint of real pain sparked in his face. 

“El..” 

“Just stop!” He snapped. “Mind control, Margo, really? My shields were gone, and you used me!” 

“I didn't want to!”

“Well, you certainly fooled me!” He stood, and stepped out of her limited range. “Whatever you did is working. The Fillorians are tripping over themselves to turn in potential traitors. You're in charge of sorting it all out. We've already rounded up some of the guards, and Fen's father has been implicated by multiple tips. We arrested him this morning.” His face became turned introspective for a moment. “I might kill him personally.” He mused.

“I didn't want an Inquisition, Eliot!”

“Congratulations! Regardless of intent we have one now!” His tone turned nasty, and he shook his head. “At least you managed to keep Bayler from becoming the martyr. Fen and the baby make much better ones.” He started to collect the books and papers that were strewn around her bedside. He might be angry at her, but he apparently hadn't left her while she was unconscious. “Now that you are out of the woods I have to finish preparing for my wife's funeral.” 

“Okay.” He left her after that, and an attendant hurried in once he had gone. Margo let herself be poked and tended in silence, answering the bare minimum of questions as she tried to process how things had gone so right in the ways that counted and so wrong in almost every other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said in the beginning that this would be a 2 chapter fic, but it ended on such a dark note that it needs an epilog. Margo is clearly in no place to help Eliot heal. Quentin is going to return and have a lot of pieces to pick up!


End file.
